


Too Attractive to Die

by larosesombre, Scarlett_Lucian



Series: Drarry Rewrites [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Rewrite, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy, Protective Harry Potter, Romance, the second task
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larosesombre/pseuds/larosesombre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Lucian/pseuds/Scarlett_Lucian
Summary: Second Task rewrite. Harry Potter finds Draco Malfoy at the bottom of the lake instead of Ron. Both he and Draco struggle with the implications of Draco being the person that Harry would sorely miss.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Drarry Rewrites [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007703
Comments: 19
Kudos: 410





	Too Attractive to Die

**Author's Note:**

> We wrote this fic together as a unique spin on the Second Task Rewrite trope, with [Scarlett_Lucian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Lucian/pseuds/Scarlett_Lucian) writing Draco's POV, and [larosesombre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larosesombre/works) writing Harry's. We hope you enjoy it!

Draco Malfoy kept his head bent over his Transfiguration textbook, pointedly ignoring the swathes of foreigners that had converged in the Great Hall after dinner. He kept catching snatches of delicate French witticisms and guttural Slavic guffaws, impossibly strange sounding when woven together with the dull British chatter that usually rose from the long tables. The loud combination made it impossible to even attempt to study. 

Slamming his textbook shut and shoving aside scrap-encrusted dinner plates, Draco stood up from the table. He wove through the clumps of students positioned throughout the Great Hall, eyeing them irritably as he pushed out into the outlying corridor, book tucked under his arm. He was desperately looking forward to the day when all this Tri-Wizard tournament mess was over and the students from the other schools could head back home and leave him in peace. For Merlin’s sake, he couldn’t even study in his own dining hall anymore! He would have to make do with the Slytherin common room, although the mere thought of the cold damp air made him shiver. House loyalty was almost as important as blood loyalty, to be sure, but that didn’t mean that he had to enjoy the freezing quarters. His hands would go so numb that they could barely turn the pages and his pale skin would verge on translucent. Even the superior quality of his robes wouldn’t save him. Damn international magical unity. 

He was scowling so fiercely that an approaching Slytherin sixth year coughed nervously several times before she worked up the nerve to get his attention. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy? Your presence has been requested in the Headmaster’s office.” The girl whirled around quickly in a flurry of black robes, message delivered and clearly not daring to stay to hear Draco’s response. 

Sweet Salazar, this evening just kept getting better and better. First, forced from the Great Hall by overexcited foreigners and now he had to endure some sort of lecture from that old fool, Dumbledore, likely filled with flowery metaphors and unnatural eye twinkling. The man constantly looked like he had goddamn glitter in his eyes! 

Suppressing a groan, Draco turned sharply on his heel and marched to the Headmaster’s office, rapping loudly on the door, which swung open the second he pulled his hand back. 

“Come in, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said cheerily, beckoning him across the threshold. 

Draco gingerly stepped into the office and looked around, surprised to see that he and the Headmaster were not alone. Also present was Granger, hair as nauseatingly bushy as ever (honestly, sometimes he was tempted to just shove a bottle of Sleakeazy’s at her, although he doubted she would even use it, as her mane seemed to be a conscious choice, evident after her carefully groomed appearance at the Ball), Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker who had attended the Yule Ball with Diggory, a younger girl with Fleur Delacour’s large eyes, the stern-faced Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman, who was fairly bouncing on the tips of his toes with a ridiculous smile on his face. Draco felt his already limited patience fray even further. 

“Professor, if you would kindly enlighten me, why am I here?” He drawled crossly, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Visible impudence would only make this worse.

“Ah, yes, momentarily everything shall be explained, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said, nodding towards Bagman. “Ludo, if you would like to go ahead.” 

“It would be my pleasure,” beamed the obnoxiously cheerful man. “Thank you all for coming! As you know, the next tournament event takes place tomorrow and you will all have a crucial part to play!” 

Draco’s heart sank. Of course. The goddamn tournament again. It was if it had been revived with the sole purpose of interfering with his life. 

“Our champions have been working on the puzzles contained within their golden eggs for months now, and if they have succeeded in cracking the code, they should be more than prepared to take on this next challenge!” 

Draco thought Bagman’s extreme confidence seemed ill-founded, considering how roughly the last challenge had gone off. 

“You four have been gathered here because each of you are what one of the champions would most miss. You will serve as their motivation throughout the next task.” Bagman grinned at them all, while Draco frowned, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“I’m sorry, but why am I here?” He asked sharply, cutting off Bagman’s continued explanation. “I have no connection to any of the champions.” 

And there it was, the inevitable: Dumbledore twinkling at him with a half-smile hidden behind his flowing beard. “In that assumption, you are mistaken, Mr. Malfoy, as you are to be Mr. Potter’s incentive in the upcoming task.” 

An uncomfortable twisting wrung Draco’s insides. What kind of cruel joke was this? Had something been slipped into his dinner? Was he hallucinating? How did they find out? No one knew. Merlin, he couldn’t even voice his fatal attraction to Potter out loud to himself. So what had given it away? Had he allowed his gaze to linger on the Gryffindor table too long? Or had they somehow sensed the lack of vitriol behind the taunting that automatically came out of his mouth? Or maybe it had been the moment of weakness he had at the Yule Ball when he had nearly gone up and asked Potter to dance with him, society and its expectations be damned? Damn it all.

Panicked, he attempted to splutter out some kind of denial, for the appearance he had to keep in front of the rest of the room’s occupants. “I-I don’t understand. Surely Granger is here for Potter. This has to be a mistake,” he ended firmly, calming down his pounding heart and smoothing out his frantic tone. Yes, that was it. Nothing more than a mistake that could be brushed away and laughed about in the years to come.

But Dumbledore quickly swept that hope away. “No mistake, Mr. Malfoy. Miss Granger is here for Mr. Krum. Miss Chang for Mr. Diggory and this is Miss Delacour’s younger sister.” 

Draco swallowed tightly, heartbeat thumping in his ears so loudly that it nearly drowned out Bagman’s continued explanation of how they were all going to be put into a magical sleep and placed in the depths of the Lake, to be guarded by the merpeople until the champions found their respective prize and carried them back to shore. If a champion did not succeed, the spell would transport them out of the water and safely back to land. 

Ordinarily, Draco would have been seething about the prospect of being put into a magical coma for nearly a day, but he was too preoccupied with the thought of Potter and how furious he was going to be when he found Draco the next day. Hell, he might even leave Draco there and forfeit the tournament just out of hatred. Draco didn’t know if he could stand to look him in his beautiful face after that. He didn’t want to see the cold fury in Potter’s entrancing green eyes. 

One thing was for sure: There was no way in hell that he was what Harry Potter would miss the most.

**...**

Harry had tired of looking through ancient books long before Hermione finally slammed her copy of  _ Weird Wizarding Dilemma’s _ shut. Harry was certain that some of these books had been sitting on the shelves since the school opened, they seemed too obscure to have ever been read before. They were about as useful as they were popular if they had managed to finally discourage Hermione. 

“Oh, this is no use.” Hermione moaned, shoving the book away. “Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?”

Probably not many people. Harry picked the book up to have a look at the author on the back. There was a painting of him, and from what Harry could see he was twirling very long nose hair, coiled into perfect ringlets.

“I wouldn’t mind, and if that painting’s anything to go by, neither would the author.” Harry spun to find Fred Weasley looking at the book over his shoulder. “Be a talking point, wouldn’t it?”

George was with him. Evidently, they had just emerged from behind a nearby bookshelf. They flanked Harry now, and George plucked the book from Harry’s hand to examine the painting further. “Mind if I borrow this?” He asked.

“Be my guest,” Harry said. “I don’t need it.”   
“What’re you two doing here?” Ron asked.

“Looking for Hermione,” George said, looking up from the book. “McGonagall wants her.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, surprised. She paled suddenly, “Oh no, you don’t think it’s about my essay, do you? I knew that third paragraph wasn’t quite right!”

“I’m sure she just wants to congratulate you on achieving an impossibly high mark,” Ron said, his tone somewhere in between mocking and reassuring. “You’re fine, ‘Mione.”

“McGonagall did look a bit grim,” Fred said, ignoring a glare from Ron.

“We’re supposed to take you down to her office,” George said.

Hermione rose, shooting an apologetic look at Harry as if to say “Sorry for leaving you with Ron”. She took  _ Weird Wizarding Dilemma’s  _ back from George and placed it on top of a pile of other books. “You two take as many books as you can. I’ll meet you back in the common room.” 

She disappeared with Fred and George, and Harry turned back to the books. He and Ron spent the rest of the evening in silence, going through book after book with no success. Eventually, Madame Pince kicked them out so that she could close the library for the night. Staggering under the weight of as many books as they could carry, Harry and Ron returned to the Gryffindor common room and settled in to read until Hermione came back. There was nothing useful that Harry could see. 

Eventually, Harry exhausted his stack of books. Glancing over at Ron, he found his friend dozing in his chair. Carefully lifting  _ Dreadful Denizens of the Deep _ out of Ron’s limp hands, Harry placed it on the table and tiptoed up to the dormitory. He’d get Ron a blanket, and grab the invisibility cloak while he was at it. He would sneak back into the library and stay there all night if he had to. 

Harry had little difficulty getting into the library. He cast Lumos and crept around quietly, pulling down more books, hoping that one of them would have the answer he needed. He carried them all over to a table and set to work, searching them with the light of his wand. The hours ticked past, and Harry still couldn’t find anything useful. He was finding it very difficult now to keep his eyes open. 

Harry woke to an incessant poking, somebody was jabbing him in the ribs with a bony finger. Harry wriggled in discomfort. “Stop it,” he mumbled, shifting to free his arm from under him. He pressed the fist into his eye, rubbing the sleep away.

“Dobby must poke Harry Potter, sir, he must wake up!”

Harry opened his eyes properly then, peeling his cheek away from the page of a book to look up. He was still in the library. He must have fallen asleep reading. Harry squinted at Dobby in confusion. “What are you doing here?” He asked, picking his glasses up from the table. They had slipped from his face while he slept, and Harry put them back on, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it at least a little. 

“Harry Potter needs to hurry!” Dobby said, practically bouncing in anxious excitement. “The second task starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter--”

“Ten minutes?” Harry gasped, jumping up and gathering his wand and cloak. “It starts in  _ ten _ minutes?”

“Hurry, Harry Potter!” Dobby said. Grabbing Harry’s sleeve to pull him away. 

“It’s no use.” Harry moaned, letting Dobby pull him out of the library. “I don’t know how, Dobby. I’ve failed, I might as well face it now.”

“No, Harry Potter must not fail!” Dobby said fervently. He looked up at Harry with what looked like desperation. “Dobby knew Harry had not found the right book, so Dobby did it for him.”

“What?” Harry said. “But you don’t even know what the second task is!”

“Dobby knows, sir! Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find the young master!”

“Who? What?” Harry sputtered, utterly confused. “They put somebody in the lake?”   


“You have to save him,” Dobby said, whimpering slightly. 

“Who?” Harry asked, frustrated. “Who do I have to save?”

Dobby pressed a finger to his lips to shush Harry. “Harry Potter doesn’t have time.” He said, pressing something into Harry’s hand. “It is what Harry Potter will miss most, sir!” squeaked Dobby. “And past an hour--”

“ _ The prospect’s black _ .” Harry recited, suddenly horrified. You mean they’ve put somebody in that lake and they’ll be drowned if I don’t--?” He looked down at the thing in his hand. “What is this, Dobby?”

“You has to eat it, sir!” Dobby said. “Right before you go into the lake, sir-- Gillyweed!”

“What’s it do?” Harry asked, staring down at the small ball of slimy green matter. 

“It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!” Dobby said. “Now hurry, you have to help him!” And with that, a distraught Dobby scuttled off, leaving Harry to wonder exactly who he was supposed to be saving.

There was no time to dwell on it. Whomever it was, they needed his help  _ now _ . Harry ran, pounding out of the castle and down towards the lake. He could see the stands that had been raised. He spotted a crop of red hair barreling towards him as he ran. 

“Harry!” Ron panted, catching up to him. “Where have you been, mate? They’re starting soon.”

“I was in the library. I have to go, Ron!” Harry said, continuing towards the water. “I’m late!”

“Was Hermione with you?” Ron yelled after him. 

Harry didn’t hear him. He raced towards the judges' table, skidding to a halt beside the other champions. “I’m here.” He panted in between breaths. 

“Where have you been?” Ludo Bagman asked. He looked relieved that Harry had shown up. Dumbledore smiled down at Harry, but Harry could see that he and Bagman were the only ones smiling. Evidently, the others had not expected Harry to show up at all. 

Still breathless, Harry allowed himself to be placed at the edge of the water. Bagman arranged the contestants at intervals, and then returned to the judges' table. He pointed his wand at his throat and said “Sonorus”, his voice booming around the lake. 

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which we will start on my whistle. They had an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One... two…  _ three _ !”

Harry had no time to consider what it was that had been taken from him. He only knew he had to get it back. Harry pulled off his socks and shoes and stuffed Dobby’s nasty Gillyweed into his mouth. He waded out into the lake, trying in vain to ignore the icy cold that bit at his toes. He chewed the Gillyweed as fast as he could, the unpleasant sensation was worse than the water. 

Harry swallowed the Gillyweed, and stood there, waiting for some sign that it had worked. He shivered in the cold, his heart sinking as he began to lose hope. Dobby was wrong. Whatever it was, whoever it was, that had been taken from Harry, he would never know. 

Then, quite suddenly, Harry felt a suffocating pressure over his face. He tried to draw breaths, but his head began to spin. He suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of his neck. His hands flew up, clasping his neck, feeling two slits that had materialized just below his ears. He had gills. Harry didn’t hesitate a moment longer. He dove into the freezing water.

The water hit his gills, and Harry felt his body relax. The gills worked, he was drawing in oxygen from the water. Harry began to swim, noticing as he did so that his hands had grown webbing. His fingers, and his toes, as he realized when he looked down, were connected by a thin membrane. Harry felt a surge of affection for Dobby. He had been right about the Gillyweed after all.

The water felt perfect now, and Harry swam with ease, his limbs knifing through the water, pulling him along. The water blocked any sound from above, rushing into his ears, flooding the canals with a steady silence. A suffocating sound of nothing at all. It was eerie, the deeper Harry swam the darker and quieter it became. He could see very little, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dark. There were dim shapes, lakeweed, stones, and hulking shapes he couldn’t identify. 

Harry could see small fish dart past and sometimes bigger things out of the corner of his eye. They were always gone when he turned to look. He found out what they had been eventually though when one attached itself to him. It was a Grindylow, it’s long fingers wrapped in Harry’s robe.

Harry panicked. He shook the thing, trying to swim out of its grasp. He could feel its nails through the robe, grating on his skin. “Relashio!” He shouted. But no sound came out, and Harry felt his panic grow worse as he realized that magic would be impossible in this challenge. Two more Grindylows swam out to join the first and Harry kicked out wildly, hoping that the Grindylow would leave. His foot connected with something, and he felt his robes go slack. He didn’t wait for the others to react, but turned and swam away from the Grindylows as fast as he could.

Harry moved on with caution, listening closely for any sound that could point him in the right direction. He could hear nothing but the overwhelming silence, his heart constricting as he thought about the verse. If he took too long to find his hostage, they’d be lost.

“How are you getting on?”

Harry wheeled around, terrified. Moaning Myrtle was floating in the water next to him. Harry could have hugged her, he was so relieved to see something that wasn’t malicious. He didn’t try to speak, there was no point. Instead, he looked at Myrtle, pleadingly. Maybe she could help him.

“You should try over there.” She said, pointing. 

Harry did hug her. Or tried to. His arms passed through her, and he swam right through, the water growing cold around him again. 

“Good luck!” Myrtle called after him. 

Harry gave her a thumbs-up in thanks and swam in the direction she had pointed. He continued for what felt like 20 minutes before he heard what he had been listening for. A mersong came to him, clear over the water. It cut through the oppressive silence and called to Harry with haunting beauty. Harry swam faster, his prize was just ahead. The thing he would miss most of all.

He was in a mervillage it seemed. Stone buildings rose around him, and merpeople passed him. They were not beautiful, instead they had yellow eyes, broken teeth and frightening snarls. Harry ignored them as best he could, keeping his eyes locked ahead, swimming ever faster as he grew closer to his target. 

Harry sped round a corner, and a very strange sight met his eyes. The choir of merpeople was just ahead, and behind them, four people floated, bound to a statue. Harry scanned the row, which one was his?

There was Cho Chang, undoubtedly there for Cedric, Harry thought bitterly. There was a young girl as well, her cloud of blonde hair marked her as Fleur’s sister. And then there was Hermione. Harry began to swim towards her, observing the stream of bubbles that came from her mouth. She was alive. The merpeople didn’t stop him, watching as Harry grew closer to Hermione. She was the one he would miss most of all, the one that he was meant to save. He felt a flood of relief that she was within reach. He had made it in time to save his friend.

Harry stopped, several meters away from Hermione’s floating body. There was a fourth person, floating between Cho and Hermione. A boy, with pale blonde hair. It was Draco. Harry felt his face to make sure that he hadn’t lost his glasses earlier. They were still there. He was looking at Draco Malfoy. 

Draco looked peaceful, his eyelashes rested lightly against his pale cheeks. His hair was lifted by the water, gentle currents moving it back and forth, the platinum waves framing his face. His head was turned at an angle where Harry could see his perfect jawline. His face, when not contorted into a sneer, was beautiful.

Harry looked up and down the line in confusion. Draco didn’t know any of the other champions. Cho was Cedric’s, the girl was Fleur’s. Which one was Krum’s? Not Draco. Harry wanted to swim to the other boy, to check that he was still alive, that he wasn’t hurt. He wanted to cut him free, to hold him close and to swim him to safety.

Harry shook himself. This was absurd. Draco wasn’t Krum’s, but he certainly wasn’t Harry’s. With fresh determination, Harry swam towards Hermione. At once, a pair of strong, grey hands seized him. Several mermen had latched onto him, pulling him away from Hermione. 

“You take your own hostage.” They said in a chorus. “Leave the others.”

Harry wanted to say that Hermione  _ was _ his hostage, but he knew it was useless to speak down here. He struggled against the mermen, desperate to get to Hermione. She  _ was _ his. She had to be.

If she wasn’t, who was?

The mermen dragged Harry away from Hermione and spun him to face Draco again. Harry stalled. What was it Dobby had said to him? The thing he would miss most? Dobby had known it was Draco, but he hadn’t told Harry. Perhaps he had thought that Harry would be content to leave Draco down there. 

That wasn’t right. Harry couldn’t leave Draco. He swam to the other boy, examining him and determining that he was unhurt. Harry, confused by a sudden flash of anger, tugged at the rope that was holding Draco in place. This challenge was twisted. The hostages didn’t deserve this. 

Draco didn’t deserve this.

A sudden babbling from the merfolk made Harry look up. He could see Cedric swimming towards them. There was a bubble around his head. He swam straight to Cho, pulled a knife from his pocket and cut her loose. He paused just long enough to tell Harry to get out of there. “Fleur and Krum are coming now!” He mouthed, before swimming off with Cho.

Harry pulled at Draco’s rope again. He wondered how much longer he had left. He wished Cedric had left him his knife. Harry swam down to the base of the rope and tried to snap it there. The end of the rope was buried, pinned down under a pile of rocks, and Harry scrabbled at them, trying to get the rope free. With an effort, he was able to tug it free. He clung to it, holding onto Draco like some kind of demented balloon. 

The merpeople started to make noise again, excited over the arrival of a new person. Harry turned to see who it was, and was shocked to see a monstrous form swimming towards him. It was a man, with the head of a shark. Harry watched in horror as it swam towards Hermione and snapped at her rope with its teeth. He assumed it must be Krum. He had badly transfigured himself.

Harry watched as Krum finally severed the rope, by some miracle missing Hermione’s limbs. The sharkman swam off, leaving Harry with Draco and the girl. Harry pulled Draco down to meet him, cradling his body to him. With Draco’s head pressed to his chest, Harry looked around for Fleur. He wanted to stop and enjoy the feeling of having Draco pressed against him, but he had a task to finish. And Merlin, he did not want to have to think about what it meant that in the middle of a challenge he was being distracted by Draco Malfoy of all people. 

In a desperate attempt to get his mind on other things, Harry swam back up to Fleur’s sister, pulling Draco with him. Fleur hadn’t come yet, and they must be getting close to the end of the allotted time by now. This time, he didn’t let the merfolk turn him away. He pulled the girl loose and began to swim. Harry wasn’t sure how he managed the weight of both of them, but he did it somehow. 

Pulling Draco and the girl with him, Harry swam for the surface. His body screamed its disapproval at him with each kick, his joints crying out against the strain. Harry bit into his lip, fighting against his own fatigue as he spotted a pinprick of light above them. 

Harry swam for the light. His head finally broke free of the water. He gulped in air, his gills receding as he exited the water. He pulled Draco up to the surface alongside him, and the girl. He felt relief flood through him. They were safe. He had rescued the person that he would miss the most, although he still wasn’t quite sure why it had been Draco Malfoy. 

**...**

Draco gasped in his first breath in over twelve hours, choking on the water that had dribbled into his lungs and mouth. He spat it out, the grimy taste of lake vegetation coating his tongue viciously. His stiff limbs paddled furiously as his heavy water-logged robes threatened to pull him back down into the lake’s murky depths and he spluttered as more water was knocked into his orifices. 

Something warm was clenched around his stomach, and it flinched when Draco attempted to smash a fist into it, ready to fight off whatever was attacking him. Was it the giant squid? Oh, Salazar, why did he ever agree to this? He was far too attractive to die. And he was still a virgin! This was all Potter’s fault. Both his state of virginity and his impending death. Damn his beautiful eyes. But Draco wouldn’t go down without a fight! Desperately wishing for his wand to supplement his lack of skill at physical violence, Draco determinedly smacked the thing tightening around his waist again.

“Malfoy, stop, it’s me, Harry,” soothed a familiar voice, desperation underlying each word. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.” Another band of warmth encircled Draco’s middle and he realized that they were arms. Harry Potter’s arms, sopping robes draping into the water and the cuffs of his now stained white shirt rolled back, revealing his wrists, which were crisscrossed with angry red scratches, as though he had been attacked by a very put-out cat. Perhaps that ugly beast that was always following Granger around. 

“Someone come grab her!” Potter called out, his steady voice muffled in Draco’s clogged ears. A splash sounded and out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Fleur Delacour in the water a few feet away, clinging to her sister. Something about the logistics of it all seemed off, including the fact that Potter had actually rescued him, but Draco was too tired to think about it, instead slumping back wearily against Potter’s chest, eyes falling shut. He might as well enjoy getting to be so close to Potter. Merlin knows it would be a once in a lifetime occurrence for him to be held in the Chosen One’s arms. 

The next thing he knew, he was being pulled out of the water. He lay splayed across the ground while Madam Pomfrey exchanged his sopping robes for a warm blanket, wrapping it tightly around him to coax away his shivers. He was pushed into a seat next to Potter, who was busy hugging Granger, much to Krum’s displeasure. Weasley was also there, running his mouth off at a million miles an hour, eyes wide. 

“Harry, you had to save Malfoy! What do you reckon that was about? That must mean all that rubbish about retrieving ‘that which you would miss most’ is complete Kneazle dung!”

Draco wilted momentarily at the certainty in the redhead’s voice before steeling himself. He had known this was coming. It was impossible to think that he was what Harry Potter would miss most. Truly, he knew that he was in agreement with the rest of the world, even if his traitorous heart had allowed hope to seep in through its iron-bound cracks for just a moment back there when Potter had his arms firmly wrapped around Draco and had told him that everything was alright because he was there for him. 

Everyone considered Slytherin to be the cruelest house but Draco felt certain that the award should go to Gryffindor, for Albus Dumbledore’s torturous meddling with his heart-strings. 

Draco watched dully as Fleur Delacour pronounced Potter her saviour and kissed him, trying desperately to ignore the painful twinge in his chest. Just once, he thought wistfully, it would have been nice to be the one on the receiving end of Harry Potter’s crooked smile.

“Alright there, Malfoy?” Potter asked hesitantly, staring down at him, something indecipherable in his emerald eyes. 

Draco nodded curtly, breaking eye contact first and sinking back down into the folds of his blanket while Potter turned back to his friends, who were all chattering loudly.

By the time the points had been announced, the cold had seeped so deeply into Draco’s bones that it felt as though it might never leech out. Holding his blanket close around him, he started off for the castle doors, treading heavily. He could fill everyone’s stares prickling on the back of his neck and heard the blatant whisperings as people pronounced their shock at his being Harry Potter’s rescue. You and me both, he thought bitterly.

**...**

Harry had been thinking a lot recently. The kind of deep, probing, thinking that would be enough to make anyone uncomfortable. Following the second challenge, he had felt uneasy about something. He still wasn’t quite sure that he understood why Draco had been the one waiting for him at the bottom of the lake. He also wasn’t quite sure that he understood the flood of protectiveness that had washed through him when he had realized that it was up to him to save Draco. If anyone had asked him before what he thought of Draco, he probably would have pulled a face. Or Ron would have, and Harry would have laughed. What had changed?

Harry wasn’t sure. But if Draco --or the mention of him, now caused a chain reaction of fluttering nerves, and conjured images of Draco pressed to Harry’s chest, his beautiful face restful, his form vulnerable in Harry’s arms-- then Harry would just have to avoid him. It would be easier than having to confront the issue head-on. 

Of course, the universe, or Dumbledore, seemed intent on preventing this. Harry still had class with Draco, and it was impossible to avoid anyone in the Great Hall. Harry found himself staring at the Slytherin table more than he’d care to admit. He’d have to tear his eyes away from Draco multiple times per meal. He was sure people must be noticing it. He had felt scrutinized ever since the challenge. The point of the challenge had clearly not been missed by anyone in attendance. Several Gryffindors had given Harry a hard time about it until Fred and George threatened to hex them into oblivion. 

Finally, after what felt like the third time that Ron had been forced to repeat himself that morning, Harry’s friends confronted him. 

“Harry, you’ve been very distracted recently,” Hermione said, gently. “Is something on your mind?”   


“No,” Harry said quickly. “Not a thing.”

“Not a certain blonde beauty?” Ron teased. “I still can’t believe you had to rescue Malfoy of all people.” He scoffed.    


“Yeah,” Harry said, forcing a laugh. “Ridiculous.”

“Shut up, Ron.” Hermione snapped. “Look, Harry, I’m not stupid. I see the way you’ve been looking at Malfoy.”

Ron let out an odd squeak. “Hermione, what-”

“Enough, Ron!” She said, cutting him off. “Harry, he was who you would miss the most. Dumbledore doesn’t make mistakes. I saw the way you carried him out of the water, you were so gentle. Did you know that Viktor made me swim back to shore on my own? He was busy trying to un-transfigure his head.” 

“He made a mistake this time,” Harry said, growing frustrated. “Hermione, I do  _ not _ fancy Malfoy.” 

“See?” Ron said, grinning. “I knew Harry hadn’t gone mad. Hermione, you’re imagining things.”

“Fine. Maybe I was.” Hermione frowned. “But if I’m not, then you should say something before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Ron scoffed. 

Harry laughed along with Ron, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was staring again, he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter how much he tried to ignore Draco, Hermione was right. It was difficult to admit, but perhaps he  _ did  _ fancy him. 

Harry forced himself to look away from the Slytherin table. He stuffed his face with toast instead. Maybe a good breakfast would make him feel a little less confused. Merlin, he hoped so. 

**...**

The past few months since the second tournament challenge had only confirmed what Draco had suspected all along: Harry Potter was sure to be the death of him. Originally, back in first year, Draco had assumed that the form of death would come when Potter, fed up with Draco’s taunts, would push him off the top of the astronomy tower or kidnap him and leave him for the werewolves in the Forbidden Forest. But this - this was so much worse than first-year Draco could have ever imagined. 

Because Draco was in love with Harry Potter. And for the first time since he had first offered his hand to Harry on the Hogwarts Express, he was going out of his way to avoid Draco completely, not even breaking the streak with a well-placed hex of revenge or a witty retort. 

But this wasn’t even the worse part. The killing blow. Because whenever Harry wasn’t pointedly ignoring Draco, he was sneaking glances at him. Desperate stares full of something that neither of them seemed to understand. They would lock eyes across the Great Hall or the potions classroom and for a few minutes, just drink each other in, trying to communicate things through their gazes that even they weren’t aware of until something would suddenly snap and Harry would quickly turn away, a faint blush edging his cheeks. And the combination of the two were driving Draco mad. His insides were constantly in knots, either because he was feeling physically ill because Harry hadn’t spoken to him in a month or because there was a whirlwind of butterflies swarming through him because something about Harry’s eyes on him made him feel complete. 

And Draco was done with that. With living in a constant state of flux, living or dying based on green eyes almost the colour of his Slytherin tie and the emotions that may or may not be hidden in their emerald depths. 

It was the night before the final challenge - the most dangerous challenge. Heart in his mouth, Draco slipped through the silent stone corridors, ducking around corners whenever a ghost or a prefect approached. 

At last, he reached the portrait that marked the entryway to the Gryffindor dorms and common room. A lady in a pink dress stared down at him, raising a skeptical eyebrow as she took in the green and silver accents on his uniform. 

“You’re not a noble Gryffindor,” she stated imperiously. 

“Well-spotted,” Draco gritted out, stomach churning with nerves. “Listen, I really need to speak to Harry Potter. Could you send someone to get him or something?”

The lady sniffed. “Well, I wouldn’t be much of a guardian if I just let some arrogant Slytherin into my common room, now would I?”

“Please,” Draco half snapped, half pled, anxiety roiling over him in waves. “It’s really important.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure it is,” The portrait lady rolled her eyes dramatically. “Now shoo! Or I’ll call Mr. Filch!”

“No, don’t do that,” Draco hissed, slapping a palm to his forehead. “For Salazar’s sake, woman-”

“I’ll do it! I will do-”

“Malfoy, what are you doing up here?” 

Draco turned to see Hermione Granger, eyes wide with curiosity, but not openly hostile, clutching a stack of books to her side and holding a shiny piece of fabric that looked like a cloak in the other. 

“Look, Granger, I know that I’ve been rather awful to you over the years, but I really need to see Harry,” he blushed at his slip-up, fumbling. “I mean, Potter. So is there any way that you could either let me in? I’ll just be minute and then I’ll leave. I just really need to talk to him.”

The Gryffindor girl studied his face for a moment, thoughtful. “Alright,” she said slowly. “But I’m doing this because I love Harry and I want him to be happy, understand?” 

Puzzled by her words, Draco nodded, watching as she whispered something to the lady in the portrait. The gilded frame swung out from the wall, and Granger stepped through into the passage behind it, beckoning for him to follow. 

They came out into what Draco assumed was the Gryffindor common room, all red armchairs and golden wall hangings curled around a cozy fireplace, and Granger set her books down beside one of the chairs. 

“Sit down and I’ll go fetch Harry for you,” she said lightly, nodding towards the overstuffed furniture, before disappearing up a shadowed staircase. 

Draco gingerly slid onto one of the chairs, sinking down into the soft cushion so unlike the sparse padding that covered the metallic pieces in the Slytherin common room. He twisted his hands together, the firelight flickering over his pale skin until he heard a quiet step behind him. 

Whirling out of his seat, Draco turned to see Harry standing in the stairwell doorway, watching him silently, his dark hair curling into the black shadows behind him. The strands were even more mussed than usual, staticky from his pillow and Draco could see faint smudges on the round lenses of his glasses. In other words, he looked perfect. 

Draco could feel his heart pounding harder against the confines of his chest and unplanned words suddenly poured out of his mouth, sneering, twisted words that made his breath hiss as sharply as the patron creature of his house. “Why have you been avoiding me? It has to be because of the second task, right? Well, I swear to you, that was not my doing. I was just as surprised as you were to find out that I was supposedly ‘the thing you would miss the most’.” His tone sounded cruel and cold, even to his own ears. “And you’re not the only one the school’s been whispering about. Only at least you don’t have the joint pain of having to see the boy you love pierce your very soul every time he deigns to look at you and the rest of the time you’re in constant agony because he won’t even speak to you anymore, not even to spit insults at you.”

“No,” Harry said, quietly but firmly.

Draco felt impossibly cold despite the roaring fire at his back. “Actually, you don’t get to say that. If you’re going to ignore me and tear me to bits, the very least that you can fucking do is let me say my piece, let me get out that last fucking words I’ll ever get to speak to you and-”

“No!” Harry said louder, eyes blazing as he stepped towards Draco. “You’re wrong.”

Draco hated the faint tears that were crawling down his face. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel, so don’t tell me I’m wrong, because I am allowed to feel that way about you, even if you don’t want me to. I am allowed to be in love. I am allowed to be in love with a Gryffindor. I am allowed to be in love with someone who isn’t a pureblood. I am allowed to be in love with another boy and I refuse to stand here and-” 

Draco suddenly fell silent as Harry placed his hands on his shoulders, staring up at him with those impossibly beautiful eyes. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as Harry’s hands slipped around his neck, fingers sliding into his hair. Draco barely knew if he was breathing as he watched Harry draw nearer, finally closing the space between them and . . . it was perfect. Harry kissed him so softly that if he had been anyone else, Draco may not have even noticed. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Harry and it was Draco and it was perfect. 

Draco pulled back, resting his forehead against Harry’s, the line of his lightning scar pressing softly against Draco’s hair. 

“You’re wrong because,” Harry breathed quietly against Draco’s lips. “Because I don’t ever want to not speak to you again. Because you are the thing I would miss the most.” 

And with those words hanging perfectly in the air, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy proceeded to live happily ever after.


End file.
